


Redefining Happiness (Like Romeo and Juliet)

by DichotomyStudios



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Friendship/Love, M/M, Postnuclear Apocalypse, Retro-Futurist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DichotomyStudios/pseuds/DichotomyStudios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Buck have survived everything together, from casual sex to nuclear bombs, but love might just kill them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redefining Happiness (Like Romeo and Juliet)

**Author's Note:**

> In this future fic, society has broken down and bottlecaps are used as a form of national currency. There is rampant radiation distorting whatever wildlife is left on the planet and affecting the pockets of survivors running loose. There is also a military faction, the Brotherhood of Steel, who is warring with the Enclave, the totalitarian President's army. This story takes place about a year after Sarah and Adam die from radiation poisoning and before Chris and Buck meet the other Mag5.  
> *  
> Many thanks to EJ, Jackie, and Raven for the early reads. Profound gratitude to B for playing comma wrangler and saving me from myself. Whatever wrongs remain are entirely mine.

He was halfway up the crow’s nest ladder when Stockholm called down to him. “Might be Larabee coming in from the west. Looks like he’s got a mutie on his ass.” Cursing, Buck dropped to the ground and was struggling to open the heavy metal gates before he remembered to grab one of the shotguns propped against the entrance.

The sniper yelled again before Buck could leave the compound. “Hey! You still owe me caps, Wilmington. I ain’t forgetting!”

Buck stood behind Deputy Weld and locked and loaded while watching for threats. The Protectron’s usual _Howdy, Partner_ and programmed drink specials at Moriarty’s Saloon faded behind him as he scrabbled over hill and shale toward the setting sun until a familiar silhouette appeared on the rise.

Chris didn’t look like he was running from anything. Jogging and sweaty, sure, but his assault rifle was on his back and Dogmeat, tongue lolling like flypaper and tail wagging steady as a metronome, was content at his side. Neither of them were bloody.

Relaxing for the first time in days, Buck blew out a breath and waited for them to come closer. He couldn't keep from grinning and had one hand in the air when a hulking super mutant showed up behind Chris, close enough to kill him.

His greeting aborted directly into sighting down the barrel of his shotgun. “Down! Get down!” Buck screamed it once, twice, and finally had to stand up straight to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating in the heat.

Chris, scowling like he had a right to disagree, was waving Buck off, waving like a lunatic and spreading himself in front of the giant – like Chris was big enough to keep Buck from getting in a clean head shot anyway.

 _Radiation_ , Buck thought. The rads had finally eaten whatever common sense Chris had left.

“Buck! Don’t shoot! He’s like Uncle Leo! _Uncle Leo!”_

Buck faltered. They’d met a weird super mutant when they were kids. It had never happened before or since, and he’d forgotten all about the mutie who hadn’t tried to eat them or slave them on sight. Damn thing had been downright sweet-natured while they’d robbed it blind.

He dropped his shotgun to waist height and tried to find a reason to trust in the situation. Chris didn’t look hopped up on chems, or at least no crazier than usual given the circumstances, and he wasn’t collared, either. But the real test was their dog. And it was clear Dogmeat had accepted the hulking cannibal as a non-threat.

Buck nodded permission and they finally all moved together; Chris glaring at Buck, Buck glaring at the mutant, the mutant eyeballing the world like it was something to see, and after a quick snuffle for Buck, Dogmeat ignoring everybody in favor of running home.

“I can’t believe he trusts you enough not to shoot me!” The creature sounded gleeful, but Buck couldn’t tell by looking at it. Mutants were all alike. Humongous and hairless. Every exaggerated face frozen in rictus. A minimal, vicious vocabulary that would be right at home on a brain-dead alligator. Mutants were engineered to express only rage.

Chris stopped them near the main gates to Megaton. He squinted at the silent sniper overhead before turning back to the mutie. “Fawkes, this is as far as I can take you. You’re on your own now.” 

Buck didn’t know if he was more surprised the no-neck monster could form complete sentences, or that Chris looked almost sorry to be saying goodbye. What the hell had happened out there?

“Maybe next time you’d like to bring home a radscorpion?” Buck muttered, inches away from Chris’ profile. “Or a molerat? What’s that? Not dangerous enough for you? How ‘bout a rabid _Yao_ _Guai_?” He might as well have been farting in the wind for all the attention Chris was paying him.

Fawkes ignored Buck, too—and wasn’t that just damned irritating—and continued snarling at Chris. “Of course, my friend. Call upon me at will. I owe you nothing less than my life. I think… I think I will be in the Museum of History continuing my education.” Without so much as a goodbye or fuck you, the thing was striding away from them.

Buck’s eyebrows climbed into his hair at the same time his jaw dropped. For all the guttural growling, the freak could use words like some scientist. And Buck had been so busy trying to glare a hole through Chris’ thick skull, he’d missed part of their conversation.

He rounded on Chris before he could walk away, too, and act like this was just another day in paradise. "You want to tell me where you been? And where the hell you picked up tall, green, and ugly?”

The mutant was still in view, carelessly stomping across the Wasteland like it wouldn’t be cut down by its own kind. Or worse. A vicious dog appeared only long enough to leap at Fawkes and be casually killed with one massive backhand.

Buck shuddered and caught up to Chris who was waiting impatiently a few steps away. They stared at each other while Buck decided whether he wanted to hug, hit, or kiss Chris—or at least which one he wanted to do first, when Stockholm interrupted.

“Hey, Larabee, Simms wants to see you first thing.” He was leaning on the railing of his lookout, arms crossed casually over his rifle, his raider armor gleaming in the sun. He spat his chaw, the dark arc splatting dully in the dust a few feet from Chris' boots. “Welcome back.”

The man smiled innocently but he wasn’t fooling anyone. It was the sniper’s job to take out threats while they were still long distance and Stockholm should have shot the mutant on sight, no questions asked. He could claim Chris spoiled his aim but the truth was Buck owed Stockholm some bottlecaps and Stockholm had made it personal. The scheming asshole had probably hoped Fawkes would go through Chris to get to Buck.

Buck was going to strangle the little shit as soon as he came down off his perch.

“Friend,” Buck said, pointing at Stockholm with an easy lying smile. “Why don’t I buy you a drink later?”

“Buck.” Chris’ eyes were cool, glancing between the two men. Buck shook his head. They could discuss finding a replacement for Stockholm later.

Buck set his shotgun down and grabbed for the knapsack over Chris’ shoulder. “Did you bring me anything?” He whistled low, feeling the bag’s considerable weight and tried to peek inside. “Any chance there’s some whiskey in here? Colin raised his prices again. I don’t know how anybody can afford to drink in his bar. What about some of those little white snack cakes, find any of those? Anything but more pork and beans.” He stopped grumbling when he noticed Chris watching him, his eyes as warm as the smile lurking around his mouth.

“It’s good to see you.” Chris said it soft and sweet, but it didn’t make everything okay.

“I’m sure it is. You said two days, Chris, not two weeks.” Buck was getting pissed off thinking of all the days he’d wanted to go searching for Chris, but the stubborn bastard hadn’t told him where he was going, just that he was _taking the dog_. And Buck had his own duties to handle, especially if they wanted to keep living in Megaton. He couldn’t just drop everything every time Chris needed to go hunting for peace of mind under the guise of scavenging for supplies.

Frowning, Chris grabbed Buck’s bicep and dragged him away from prying eyes before slamming him into the city wall, the hot metal sheeting clanging like a church bell against Buck’s back. He kissed Buck quick and hard, and then softer and slower until they molded together like they’d never been apart. Buck nodded, holding on fiercely and agreeing with everything Chris hadn’t said.

Chris pulled away and quirked a half smile. “It’s not safe out here, and I need a bath.”

Buck made aborted motions to grab him again, but he knew Chris was right and they laughed. It felt good to laugh.

Side by side they reclaimed Buck’s shotgun and moved to secure the main gates, ignoring Deputy Weld’s suggestion they go to the saloon. Chris glanced at Buck sideways and said, “Town still got water?” 

“Yeah but Walter’s still fearing for the processor. Says he needs those parts more than ever.”

“Is that why the sheriff wants to see me?” said Chris, casting a suspicious eye in Buck’s direction and nodding absently at passing city settlers as they made their way through the narrow winding streets. Buck hedged and tried not to look guilty, but Chris gave him one sharp look and sighed. “What did you do?”

He was saved from answering when they came across Dogmeat under the scaffolding next to the clinic. The mutt was already fucking Daisy like his life depended on it. Buck wiped a hand over his face and thought no wonder the dog wanted back inside so badly: _Because the dog wanted back inside so badly._  

“Dammit, Buck! I have to go talk to her owner in a minute. Simms’ll have his balls – and ours, too – if she ends up with puppies.” Chris waved a finger in Buck’s face. “Your dog, your problem, you fix it.” He stalked away toward the bathhouse leaving Buck to consider how best to separate a couple of old lovers newly reunited.

*

An hour later when Chris came home, Buck was ready for him. He’d been unpacking Chris’ score across the scarred wooden dining table and humming along with the jukebox, but when Chris started yelling, Buck sat down and calmly began pouring shots of whiskey.

“The _Enclave?_ You took on a party of Enclave by yourself? What the hell’s wrong with you?” Chris slammed the steel door harder than necessary and stalked to Buck, his movements as jagged as his tone. They knew each other too well for intimidation to work but it never stopped them from trying.

Chris was freshly scrubbed and his bright eyes and flushed cheeks made him look even more pissed off but damned attractive, too. Buck had hoped to get Chris dirty again from loving, not fighting, but the man could be a hypocrite. “I’m only sorry you weren’t _around_ to see me kick ass. It was one of my finer moments, if I do say so myself. Three Dog even mentioned me on the radio,” Buck said, pausing long enough to preen.

“You’re too old to be glory hounding, Buck,” Chris sneered.

“And you’re not old enough to be my pa.” He was on his feet in a second, towering over Chris and using a nasty voice. Buck had his own reasons to be hot as hell and everything had bubbled up in a flash. But he didn’t _want_ to spend the night being angry. Purposely avoiding the challenge in Chris’ eyes, Buck lowered his voice and said, “Just… sit on down and drink with me.”

To his credit, Chris barely hesitated before settling on the bench next to him. Buck swallowed his whiskey in one go and eyed Chris, thoughtfully. “I had good odds, Chris. You know the Enclave as well as I do. All their expensive armor and weapons ain’t nothing but smoke and mirrors. Just a bunch of snot-nosed brats with bad training. ‘Sides, the good Sheriff tell you he’s the one who sent me out there in the first place?”

“I heard you volunteered.”

“They hijacked two shipments of purified water. You’d have gone after them, too.” Buck sniffed derisively, pretending he hadn’t tacked on a silent _if you’d been here_ and served himself more whiskey.

Chris stared at the corroded wall panels and finished his drink. He said distantly, “It didn’t have anything to do with the water and you know it. Buck… we’re not Brotherhood anymore. We’re out of their war.”

Buck wanted to argue and defend his reasoning but whatever indignation he was trying to dredge up went out the window when Chris cocked his head and said, “Did you bring _me_ anything?” His grey-green eyes were laughing and his smile seemed wry and wistful.

Maybe, Buck thought, Chris was really sorry he hadn’t been around to _help_ kick ass.

Irritation forgotten, Buck laughed and reached behind the table where he was hiding his prize, setting it on the bench seating between them with a deep thud. He laughed again when Chris’ curious scowl flared into big-eyed, open-mouthed surprise.

Buck sprawled in his seat and watched Chris carefully. “I know you ain’t fond of plasma weapons, but if you don’t like it, I’m sure you can cut a deal with Lucky Harith. I hear he has a _Xuanlong_ now.” Chris hefted the rifle and examined it, obviously charmed, and the sweet boyish glee made Buck’s throat tighten. If he’d known an Enclave weapon could make Chris look like that, he’d have taken out a hundred scouts to give it to him earlier. “Guess this means you owe me something because, I gotta tell you, buddy, I turned your pack inside out. I was hoping you’d bring me something besides a pack of _gum_ ,” he said, grabbing the candy from the table and waggling it under Chris’ nose. 

Chris laughed and moved to lean the rifle against the gun locker. “What are you talking about? I saved that one special for you,” he said, grinning. His smile faltered at the same time his eyes flicked to Buck and he turned away, busying himself with sorting new salvage at the workbench. But it was too late; Buck had seen Chris’ face. He knew that look. He hated that look.

“Saved? _Saved_ one for me?” _You masochistic dumbass_ , thought Buck. “Tell me you didn’t go to Little Lamplight? Chris?” There was no answer but no denial, either.

Just that fast he was on his feet and physically crowding Chris, almost as close as when they were kissing earlier, but Chris wasn’t backing down which suited Buck just fine. Buck figured his chances for a little sweetness were deader than an underworld ghoul so he might as well spend the night trying to beat some sense into his aggravating lover instead. “I can’t believe you came in here with your self-righteous _bullshit_ and –“

“They’re just kids! They’re out there by themselves.”

Buck laughed, incredulous, and pointed one unwavering finger in the general direction of where Chris had gone, one of the most dangerous hunting grounds in the Capital Wasteland. “ _Those_ are not children. They’re baby deathclaws. They’re evil adults in little bodies. They tried to kill us last time we were there!”

“They thought we were slavers!”

“You go back out there and I’ll slave _you_ ,” promised Buck. Chris shoved him hard in the chest but Buck wouldn’t let him pass and Chris swung, clocking Buck in the temple. He threw Chris into the corner, then tackled him down to the floor and they spent the next few minutes scuffling around, wrestling, swearing, and throwing the odd mean elbow until they were both bruised and exhausted and groaning like old men. Upstairs, Dogmeat had started barking at the commotion, and he was still growling and scratching at the door, trying to get to them.

Panting, Chris grunted and tried sitting up in the small space between Buck and the wall. He finally flopped back again, pointing at the ceiling. “You put him in the storeroom?”

“Yep,” Buck mumbled around a mouthful of hurt. “Had to carry him back. Daisy followed us the whole way. Don’t think she was done with him.”

Lying on the metal floor, Buck could feel the stinging start on the odd scrape and cut. His jumpsuit was probably ruined and Chris’ shirt and pants were filthy and torn. The floor was nothing but rusted scrap metal riveted into place, barely suited for walking on, but it wasn’t the first time they’d thrown down on it.

He considered how many caps they’d have to waste at the clinic this time and then realized at least they were alive to go anywhere at all.

For Chris, that had become his biggest problem.

Buck rolled over until he could prop himself up on an elbow and look down at Chris’ dirty face. “Got you good right there,” he said, poking at a bruise swelling Chris’ eye. Chris just flinched and agreed, but Buck didn’t need him to talk. He needed him to listen. “They’re gone, Chris. They’re not suffering anymore.”

Chris stiffened immediately and tried to glare at Buck but couldn’t hold it. “I know that better than anybody.”

“But Sarah didn’t want you to suffer, either. You didn’t kill her, Chris. You just… let her go. I hope you’d do the same for me.” Buck knew he was being manipulative, but Chris needed to be strong-armed sometimes. And he’d finally gained Chris’ full attention, complete with stricken look of horror. “You know me. You know I don’t want to die. Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement here.”

It was hard enough finding decent people in the Wastes let alone folks you liked. Or trusted. Or loved. If Buck had learned anything after losing Sarah and Adam and almost losing Chris, it was to hang on tooth and nail to whatever good you could find for as long as it lasted. All he wanted on any given day was for Chris to agree with him.

After a couple of false starts Buck figured he must have bitten his tongue in the brawl because it felt too thick for his mouth and all his words were coming out wrong. He’d intended to say sweet things, things that would explain how he felt and what he wanted. Something to make Chris believe in _them_. He said, “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing dumb things anymore.”

Chris stared at him for too long without blinking, his eyes getting watery before he pulled Buck down into a gentle kiss and held him there, breathing on Buck’s lips, their foreheads pressed together. Chris’ eyes were a little scared around the edges, but he was looking at Buck as though he’d heard every word Buck wanted to say. “Maybe we should just do the dumb things together.” ~~~~

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

One grin was matched by another and Buck fell on Chris with a happy heart, kissing him until they decided the floor was killing the mood.

Halfway to the stairs, Chris pulled away and grabbed something off the table: A small wooden box with a latch. “I really did bring you something,” Chris said wearing his crooked smile, the one that said things were about to get real interesting. Buck loved that smile even when it was aimed at him, but it was making him suspicious.

“I saw this,” he said, flipping the latch. “Didn’t have a chance to look inside yet. Something gonna pop out when I open it?”

Chris laughed. “It’s Mississippi Quantum Pie.”

He made Chris repeat the name slowly. Buck had heard stories from traders and scavengers but thought it was all talk. He opened the box with reverence and there it was: a dark chocolate pie with small glowing cracks of energy. “Where did you…? How…? Does it really boost combat skills? Increases power?”

“That’s what I hear. Energy and endurance, too. _Stamina_.”

Chris’ smirk was positively filthy, and Buck finally understood. He whooped and stuck two fingers in the pie, licking it off and offering some to Chris. As both fingers disappeared between Chris’ lips and he felt a hot, wet tongue slide between his knuckles, he started to feel the effects.

He was sorry they’d argued. Hell, he was sorry they’d talked at all. He was _really_ sorry Chris hadn’t given him the damn pie the second he’d come home.

“You know what I think,” he growled, latching on to Chris’ wrist and dragging him up the stairs to the bedroom. “I think Dogmeat might just be the smartest critter in this house.”


End file.
